All Is Fair After The Fall
by Chase The Dream
Summary: After a pandemic known as "The Fall" leaves the world in panicked ruins, Arthur Kirkland has had to learn how to survive. Working as a bounty hunter, a trip for burn salve leads him to Francis Bonnefoy. Kidnapped and left for dead, Francis offers Arthur money in exchange for safe passage. But Arthur soon fears Francis may steal his life and his heart.
1. Chapter 1

The weather below the southern border this time of year was hot and dry. The sun stung your eyes if you didn't wear a hat and it was inevitable you were going to die in less than three days without water. There was a town, one of few, still left in that part of the world. It was small and had few travelers through, but it was as close to an oasis you could get. And on a small corner under the shade of trident maples an old convenience store still lived on. It was small, with flaking grey paint that covered sparse spots of worn ruddy brick. A neon "OPEN" sign still flickered persistently in the dark windows.

Arthur squinted against the light as he hopped over a familiar crack in the cement curb. He pushed open the door and only noted how hot the metal push bar was. Inside the air was slightly less horrid. The buzzing of an old air conditioner confirmed that while, technically, the room was cool, the slight humidity still clung to your skin wetly. The old yellow florescent lighting was bright during the day like this, but at night left an eerie muted sepia tone to even the most vibrant of colors. Old metal shelves held arrays of metal and glass bottles, jars, and tins of every sort imaginable, along with a myriad of dried and live plants. Arthur could just barely remember when shelves just like those would hold bags of cheese flavored snacks and plastic bottles filled with dark or neon sugar-filled liquid. Just barely though. That was forever ago it seemed.

Several people were in the shop, meandering around and looking at this or that bottle. A young girl on a step ladder was hanging herbs from a lattice on the ceiling. She was taller than last time Arthur was there. Her hair was still in long dark pigtails and she still wore that sky blue dress. Arthur never got her name. The girl rarely talked but often made excited gestures and sounds, and had a habit of rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"Arthur! Did you get shot again?" A deep voice laughed heartily.

Arthur smirked and turned to the other side of the store to see Alex coming out of the back room. "You wish. I'm not giving you any more of my money than I have to." His voice was two thirds country drawl and one third London, and laced with a calm cockiness that came with years of self assured skill in some field.

Alex sauntered up to Arthur at a mild pace and threw his arm around the smaller man and chuckled. With his other hand he adjusted the cigar between his lips. He patted Arthur's back roughly before making his way behind the counter.

Alex was one of the few doctors Arthur knew. A tall, thick, Cuban man who had no time for anything less than a pleasant day and no regard for those around him who didn't smoke.

"So, what is it then?" He asked, leaning against the yellowed counter.

"Just supplements. Anything you have." Arthur said casually.

Alex nodded and pulled a plastic bin out from under the counter, popping the blue top off and pulling out small glass jars. With large hands he carefully filled each jar with pills from different plastic bags, each marked in bold handwriting on beige masking tape labels. Arthur never knew where it was Alex got the pills but never really thought it mattered what with the world the way it was.

While Alex worked, he talked. "You're looking worse for wear. Get an assignment?"

Arthur frowned slightly and looked at himself in the long mirror on the wall behind the counter. His face was dirty, his hands and clothes dirtier. And it looked like he hadn't showered in a couple days. Which wasn't really untrue but he couldn't be blamed for that.

"Yes, unfortunately."

The taller man hummed in response. "Must be hard on the boys. How are they anyway? Still kicking up trouble?"

"Boys" meant Alfred and Matthew, Arthur's younger cousins. "Alfred more than ever. Damn kid's got some crazy idea in his head he's an adult. Matthew as always is just fine. Not a problem in the world with him."

Alex finished by pushing corks into the tops of each jar. "Good! Those boys are gonna grow up to be good men, just like their wonderful cousin I'm sure."

Arthur dug in the little bag attached to his belt and laughed, "Yeah, yeah take your damn money you know flattery doesn't work on me."

"That's what they all say and yet here I am, and here you are, coming back!" Alex winked as he caught the coins that were thrown at him. Arthur grabbed the jars and headed out.

"Keep talking like that and I might not!" Arthur called as he made his way out the door.

There were few places in this town like Alex's Apothecary. Arthur knew little about him, other than his Mother was a doctor and often researched natural medicine. Alex, although a very big hearted and generous man was still very much a mystery to most everyone.

Arthur threw the pills into his worn grey rucksack and looked around. He hadn't been below the Southern Border in at least four months and recollected little about the supposedly abandoned town. There was time to spare he supposed. The train near the edge of the border wasn't due to leave until late that night. With a little walking Arthur came upon the small circular building he'd been searching for. It was made of bright red bricks, and went relatively untouched by time. The roof tiles were dark green and covered with twigs and acorns from the trees around it. Glass panels formed a skylight between the roof and a small sloped top. A black wind vane stood still at the apex. Other than the skylight, one rounded window stood above the large tan double doors.

This building was arguably one of Arthur's favorites. It was the town library. He had stopped by every time he'd come into town. With lumbering steps he approached the doors, raising his hand and knocking them heavily a couple of times. There was silence. And then the sound of iron locks moving. One of the doors creaked open and a small man stood in its place. He didn't say anything, but he gestured for Arthur to come in. Arthur obliged. The two stood in silence as the door was closed and locked once more.

"Nice to see you again Kiku." Arthur said pleasantly.

Kiku was somewhat of an old friend. Not nearly as old as Alex, but round about. He had been talking with Alex one day about how he'd missed libraries. Most of them in his area didn't survive the anarchy brought on by the first seventy three hours of the disaster. Alex offhandedly mentioned the library in town kept by a quiet Japanese boy. Things had progressed from there. Kiku lent Arthur books as long as Arthur told him about his family. An odd exchange but worth it none the less.

"You too. Do you have the book from last time?" He asked politely.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sorry it's been so long." Arthur sighed, digging in the rucksack. "Work gets to me and then when I do get time off the boys keep me busy."

When Arthur found the book he held it out; Kiku lingered back for a second before accepting it. He didn't say anything. He rarely said much. When he did get to talking it was usually about whatever story Arthur was telling.

"How are they, your brothers I mean." Kiku questioned as he made his way down an aisle.

Arthur hung back before going down another aisle. At this point there was no correcting Kiku. He had referred to them as his brothers every time they talked.

"They're annoying as always. Getting into trouble. Well, Alfred at least." Arthur rambled without thinking. He focused more on the books than conversation. "The boy's an idiot. Thinking he's invincible will get him killed one day. Then what are Matt and I supposed to do? We've all lost people in The Fall. I don't know if Matt could take it if he lost Alfred too. Hell, I don't know if I could take it."

Arthur stopped and turned to Kiku, who had moved out into the open room, apologetically. "I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."

Kiku breathed deeply. "It's ok. That was a long time ago."

There was silence after that. Kiku had told him about his family only once. Parents and older brothers dead during a raid. He was so young and he lost everything. Arthur supposed that's why Kiku liked hearing so much about Alfred and Matthew. It helped him imagine what life might've been like. If The Fall had never happened, if this town never had to take him in, if his life had gone differently.

Arthur thought about that a lot too.

"How's about an old friend, then?" Arthur said casually, pulling out a battered copy of _1984_ by George Orwell.

Kiku nodded and picked up a pen and offering it. Arthur took it and quickly scribbled his name down before handing the book to Kiku. The inside of the front cover was littered with signatures, both Kiku's and that of others. Whether from this town or far away Arthur never knew. But his name appeared more than once, maybe seven if you really wanted to decipher the scrawling lines from one another.

"Strange isn't it? How different the world turned out to be from what Mr. Orwell thought." Kiku muttered, then handed the book back.

"Instead of someone watching over us, we suddenly realize no one's there. Big Brother abandoned us and didn't even bother to stay and watch us fall apart. Ironic I'd say." Arthur said thoughtfully.

Little more was shared before Arthur left. He strolled through the town and watched life go on as normally as it could. It amazed him that many of the children playing outside that day would only know The Fall as a story. A tale told by their parents. A tale where "Big Brother" cut his losses and left the rest of them to ruin. A tale where those who were left rose from the ashes and started again. And those who lost everything had to learn the difference between surviving and living. A tale they would go on to tell their kids much like how a historian would tell about a World War he never served in. Detached and with glamour.

He supposed it would be for the best once he was long gone. But for now he was young and alive and the scars still throbbed. The Fall was the kind of disaster that shook the whole world. No one expected it and everyone was scared. Though, credit had to be given to the human race. As much as things now weren't perfect, most people were able to move on and live fairly normal lives.

For the hours left before the train Arthur had managed to get some jam and avocados from a local woman, as well as more bullets. When the time came to board the train the sky was dark and you could barely make out the smoke coming from the barrels of the monster. He paid his fare to the man at the door and made his way down aisles of seats. Most trains like this were old and wholeheartedly refurbished. It should be noted, however, that _wholeheartedly_ did not mean_ well_. The seats were still red and covered in velvet. Even if said velvet was threadbare in many areas. It no longer gave the air of elegant richness, but gave a nice air to most. A smug sense of pride if you were Arthur, who felt no shame in laying himself out where the rich used to traipse their way across the country.

The ride was long and Arthur slept through most of it. But as the sun rose he could see the old town station on the horizon. Looking around he found few people in the car, one of them he recognized but they only nodded in distant affirmation. They both departed from the station in separate directions without saying a word to one another. There was nothing _to_ say. Not unless there was trouble.

_'If there was trouble I would've woken up dead.'_ Arthur thought.

Makeshift stables were built outside of the station, looking startlingly old next to the more modern building. The boy running the stable recognized him and without instruction brought Arthur his horse. There was a brief exchange of money before Arthur set off.

Riding through the suburban neighborhoods was strange. It felt like playing cowboys and indians. Arthur broke through the scenery like a rusty knife through milk. Obviously out of place, but no one looked up from their conversations. People sat on porches and played cards. Kids rolled around on lawns and teenagers gathered in packs at the street corners. No one had ever imagined people riding by on horses would become the norm on streets where minivans once reigned supreme. Arthur almost felt relief when he rode into the country.

He lived far enough from the city that they were afforded a good amount of land and few neighbors. It was an hour or two until midday when he finally hopped off his horse and let it into the pasture. He paused and looked at his home, which he did often. The yellow house sat at the edge of a forest that wound around the vast property. At the very edge of the woods sat the small stable built for three horses. The house itself was small but Arthur, Matthew, and Alfred were only three people.

Arthur made his way to the steps leading to a wrap around porch. He passed the windows to the kitchen and noticed Matthew was home. The front door creaked slightly but slid open freely. The sound of a generator starting hummed through the screens in the windows.

"Home!" Arthur called over the din.

Matthew appeared in the door smiling as always. He was young, but tall and strong. Smart as hell too. "Finally."

The two of them met in the middle of the room and threw their arms around one another. With Arthur's job, it was impossible to say when it would be they'd hug for the last time.

"Your brother home too?" Arthur asked and shrugged off his coat.

Matthew made his way through the doorway and back into the kitchen. "Yeah. He just started the generator so I can work on lunch. Boss let us out early because he "felt rain coming" or something like that."

"Yeah 'in his bones'. I'm surprised the old fart can feel his own heartbeat anymore." Alfred laughed, announcing himself as loudly as possible followed by the screen door slamming behind him.

"Hello to you too Alfred." Arthur sighed.

"You just got home and you're already sighing at me." Alfred joked and threw his arms around Arthur.

"Get off me!" Arthur complained, but patted Alfred's back anyway.

The blond laughed and strutted into the kitchen to hopefully annoy his brother instead, calling "Love you too!" back at Arthur.

Arthur scoffed and started removing the gun holsters that laid at his hips, setting them on the old wooden table. It was scuffed and scratched but was still smooth to the touch and shiny with lacquer. Arthur clearly remembered the day he and Alfred went furniture "shopping". Technically it isn't stealing if the place was abandoned _and_ a Goodwill. Arthur had figured the store still served it's purpose in a roundabout way while they heaved the thing and a couple other items into the back of a good samaritan's truck. If he were being honest, that's how they'd furnished most all of the house. Smiling at the memory Arthur shook his head and made his way into the kitchen. The cool tile floor felt good in the heat. Matthew stood next to the stove chopping carrots and potatoes.

"What's for lunch?" Arthur asked.

Matthew set the knife down and wiped his hands off on a towel before reaching for a pan above the island in the middle of the room. "Well, definitely fried potatoes and carrots. Maybe grilled cheese if _Alfred would get off his ass and ride down to the corner store for some cheese._" Matthew's voice lilted a couple notches higher in volume to address his brother in another room.

All he got in response was an exasperated "Oh my god I'm going!" followed by a muttered "Fuck."

"Anyway," Matthew continued. "It's gonna be a bit so if you want to go take a shower or something while the generator's going it'd be the perfect time."

Agreeing, Arthur ambled his way back through the dining room and past the bathroom. To the left a door opened on a staircase and another door to the living room. Upstairs was home to three fairly large bedrooms, where Arthur gathered fresh clothes before making his way back down to the bathroom.

It was raining at Cape Canaveral. The skies were dark and the air felt heavy. But that deterred Francis Bonnefoy little. He opened an umbrella as he stepped onto the loading platform that descended from the hull of the hulking ship he had been on for a good couple of days. A dark car pulled up as he reached the end, and it's doors opened swiftly so the young man could slide in as quickly as possible. Francis patted his long blonde hair down. In weather like this his hair tended to frizz and he had no qualms making it known he disliked that fact. The driver was a young man, early twenties, making him about the same age as Francis. His skin was tan and his hair curled in short brown strands. He looked much more suited to a bartender at one of the many clubs Francis had visited in Spain than someone who drove anyone paying to and fro. He was accompanied by a young woman with a curly blonde bob. They both had extraordinarily green eyes.

"Francis Bonnefoy I take it?" The man questioned, voice confirming Francis' first impression. The man was definitely Spanish.

"Oui." Francis replied. "And you?"

He got only a smile in return. "You can call me Toni." Toni's voice was even and pleasant. But it was altogether not one of a safe man. Francis had come in contact with many men like Toni in his short life. Most of whom were not the kind of men you wanted to upset. "This here," Toni motioned towards the woman, "Is Belle. My boss thought she might be a nice welcoming present."

Belle, which was undoubtedly a fake name, looked back at him and smiled. Well, it was a nice gesture at least.

"As much as I appreciate his efforts, and I do recommend you give my thanks to your boss, I don't think that will be necessary." Francis said smoothly.

"Shame. You're very handsome. Are you sure?" Belle asked, clearly trying to seduce him into compliance.

"Oh, very. While you are quite beautiful, I'm afraid my proclivity doesn't lean towards your feminine beauty." The Frenchman replied.

Belle, now no longer concerned about a paycheck shrugged his comment off and leaned back in her seat. Toni smirked at her and glimpsed at Francis in the rear view mirror bemusedly. The three set off on their long voyage, the next stop still hours away.

Their first stop involved a charging station. The car apparently was a hybrid, which was rare but not entirely impossible for someone like Toni's boss to own, and needed charged. Gas was far and little between in places like this. So they stopped somewhere that still managed to get electricity. Toni and Belle left the car telling Francis they would be leaving in about half an hour and Francis was welcome to roam if he pleased. He declined, happy to stay in the car if it meant staying dry and clean. The station wasn't exactly the most sanitary looking of all places. He almost hadn't noticed he'd dozed off after ten minutes. And he definitely hadn't noticed when it wasn't Toni who had opened the door and placed a cloth over his mouth.

Light faded in and out of Francis' vision. Noise was loud and he had trouble making sense of what was being said. A loud thump startled him before he completely blacked out.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> So yeah! It's literally been forever, and Fix has basically fallen out of my skill level in the past, what, year and a half-two years, since i last updated? I'm soooo sorry to anyone who loved Fix but I don't have plans to update it any time soon. If I ever find the passion for it again I might pick it up and re-write it though!

This has been a long fic in the making tbh. I created a book cover for it my Junior year of high school (and originally had no plans for it other than that we just had a book cover project in graphics) and have been slowly planning it out for the past year or so since then. I recently graduated and figured what better time to actually start writing again! I really think this story is great, rough around the edges as it is, and I really hope that all of you look forward to reading it!

I avidly encourage and appreciate comments and constructive criticism and I look forward to the growth of this world that's taken up so much of my mind in recent months!


	2. Chapter 2

It had started in Canada. A few people, no more than five. They all began the same. A fever that seemed perfectly common. Vomiting and cough, weakness. It was normal and no one paid it much mind. Until it got worse. Much, much worse. Suddenly more people came down with the same sickness. And the ones who were sick the longest couldn't keep food down anymore. If they were lucky they'd die of starvation. If they were unlucky...

They started seeing things. No one could really tell what exactly it was they were seeing. Many just stared into space in horror and screamed, pulling at sheets and their caretaker's clothing and arms. Crying and begging for help. For someone to save them.

And then they died.

No signs, no slow spiral down into death. They just stopped living. The air around them would vibrate with horror, lilting and echoing off walls. They'd scream until their voices were ragged. And within the span of seconds it took for them to take another breath, nothing. Hundreds of people died like this within a couple months. Doctors were baffled and Disease Controls everywhere were working constantly to figure the infection out. But nothing made sense, and more people were getting sick. Suddenly, it appeared in other places. Europe and South America, places nowhere close to where the first of the deaths occurred. Now the world was feeling unsettled. Doctors started making their best guesses. Patients started taking anything they could get their hands on. But nothing ever worked. As the disease got more aggressive, Governments tried assuaging any fear they could. Advising people to stay indoors, boil their water, cook their meats well past recommended temperatures. Everyone did whatever they could to survive. And for a while it worked. Less people were dying. Fear subsided what little it could in the times.

No one thought it could get worse. The disease didn't start with a fever anymore. Without warning, anyone infected became anemic, often blacking out and waking up in stupors. Dehydration set in no matter how much water people drank. The hallucinations got worse. More violent. The infected became enraged and lashed out at anyone near when a wave of hallucinations hit. By now hundreds of thousands around the world had died and it didn't look like there was any hope of it ending. The horror only escalated when patients started crying blood. The disease that had up until then gone nameless, bearing only the moniker "Contagion X" now toted the nickname "The Red Death". No one lived long after that stage. Governments did all they could to assure people everything would be okay. Gas masks were issued in case the disease was airborne. No one was pleased. They had been burning the dead for months now, unable to bury them in such large quantities.

The chaos spread when suddenly food banks and hospitals shut down. Buildings were burned and riots filled the streets of large cities. Robberies and arson shot up in number as people looted whatever they needed to survive. Groups from every part of the world claimed that this was the end. This was raprure. And one by one, every country shut down completely. Government simply ceased to exist, unable to handle the pressure of the pandemic. The world was thrown into ruin. People fought and killed each other for things that used to be plentiful. Power grids went down everywhere, powered only by solar panels, that is if there were any. And then when it was it's worst, when everyone had lost hope and faced death every time they woke up, people just stopped dying. No more hallucinations and no more Red Death. Some people recovered. It took almost a year before anyone realized it was over. And slowly, for most, life began again. People rallied together in small communities and rebuilt life.

But there was still horror in this new world. Still people who remembered the fear and the bloody tears. Children left orphaned, the memory of their parents, being caught in the crossfire of robberies and raids, their mothers protecting them and shielding them from men in black masks with guns.

Yelling "Mom" and "Dad".

"Stay back!"

"Get down get down!" he yelled above the screeching noise around them.

"Mom!" a child holding his new glasses, now broken in his hands, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he struggled against his cousin.

"SHUT UP GET DOWN! STAY TOGETHER." he screamed and turned around, seeing only the black figure of an older boy against a blistering fire raise a gun shakily. He pulled his cousins to his chest as the sound of gunfire deafened him. He barely registered the bodies of two women crumpling to the ground.

"MOM!"

Arthur woke up sweating, his shirt sticking to him and the blanket all but smothering him. He threw the blanket off of himself and swung his legs off the bed. His heart was pounding. Taking a deep breath Arthur pushed his hair off of his forehead. It had been years and yet he could still replay that moment in his head like it was just the other night.

The morning light filtered through the curtains above his bed. The boys had gone to work hours ago, before the sun even broke the dark horizon. If Arthur got around soon enough he would be able to catch them before lunch. So up Arthur got. He figured Matthew would be asking about Gilbert so a trip to the post office would be warranted just in case.

When he got to the office he was surprised to see a message for him alongside Matthew's. Arthur knew who it was from instantly. His boss's handwriting was small, bold, and curt, almost laughably ironic when held up to the man. As it was opened he'd hoped to God it wasn't another assignment. Giving it a quick skimming, Arthur sighed in relief.

The farm was a stark contrast to Arthur's dark dream earlier. The land stretched for acres, it's vibrant green grass interrupted only by large plots of dark dirt gardens on one side and a worn white fenced pasture on the other. The sun came down in what seemed like pure brilliance that coated everything with a golden glow. Arthur stood under a tree near the big maroon barn that Alfred and Matthew often spent a lot of their day in. It was a massive thing. Meant originally to hold large amounts of livestock for butchering and dairy. The once open interior was sectioned off for a million different uses, but usually to hold the enormous amount of produce supplied to farmer's markets, trading centers, and individual vendors across several counties in the Texan Territory.

Arthur didn't move. He just waited until the boys were done with their work for a moment. Matthew had spotted him and waved two fingers at him before continuing what he was doing. Which currently was fixing up the Old Man's Monte. Matthew had tried to explain exactly what excited him so much about the old car, something about "A Monte Carlo from '70? The thing's basically the best thing to ever happen." or whatever. Alfred wasn't too far from his brother. He and several boys were loading up a pickup truck with hay and feed. One boy he recognized as Alfred's friend Scotty. He was at least a foot taller than the other boys and his hair was an ungodly bright ginger. He stood out against the other farmhands, who ranged from dark to fair skinned, Scotty being fairer than even Matthew. What amazed Arthur more about the boy than his amazing strength, was that he actually put up with Alfred without choking him.

When the boys finished, Alfred slammed the tailgate shut and wiped his hands on his jeans as the car took off to some far reach of the farm. Matthew wiped his hands on a bandanna and joined his brother as he walked towards Arthur, who stepped away from leaning against the rough bark of the tree.

"Why're you here?" Alfred asked once they were all under the shifting shade of leaves.

Arthur shot him a look that was anything but amused. "Hello to you too." His gaze shifted back over to Matthew, "I have good news." he smirked when the younger boy's face lit up.

Matthew took the letter from Arthur's hand and ripped it open to reveal two or three pieces of lined paper with messy scrawling writing on both sides of every page. He smiled brightly and Arthur turned his attention to Alfred so Matthew could read in relative peace.

"Anyway," Arthur starts. "I got a letter from Ivan."

Alfred frowns at the name.

"Luckily not an assignment. He's letting me off for a week or two. So looks like you'll be seeing more of me around for the time being." He explains. Alfred's eyes tell Arthur he's happy to hear that, but his petulant frown tells him he wishes it were more permanent. Arthur wouldn't be able to begin to tell Alfred how much he wished the same. But without this job they'd have nothing.

Alfred sensed another sermon coming on so he changed the subject.

"Didja hear about the Florida Territory?" He questioned. It seemed to work. His cousin looked at him with curiosity.

"No. Not that I know of. Why?"

Alfred took his glasses off and rubbed them with his shirt while he talked "I've been hearing about looters down near the Cape. Everyone's been talking."

Looters? Well that wasn't new. Though, Arthur thought he would have heard about that at some point. And while it was unlikely they'd move from the treasure trove Cape Canaveral brought in daily, he got a tugging feeling that told him he should double check that their doors were locked at night.

"Nothing new. Bit surprised I haven't heard a word of it from anyone. Though I wouldn't think Alex would know anything being he's so far away. He's the only reason I go any more south than we already are." Arthur said nonchalantly. It was probably nothing anyway.

The rustling of paper brings Matthew back into the conversation. Alfred, not missing a beat jumps on the chance to antagonize him.

"So what was that all about hmmm?" He asked slyly.

"None of your business that's what." The younger blond replied.

"Aww come on Mattie let me read!" Alfred whined as he reached for the letter Matthew held away from him. "I'm just curious!"

"Dude get the fuck off me. Alfred stop!" He yelled and tried to push his brother off as he wound his arm around Matthew's neck and a leg around his knees.

"Hey this is my job ok I wanna make sure this creep isn't fucking with my little bro." He huffed as Matthew finally pushed the other off of him. "What is it you two talk about anyway? You barely have anything in common besides cars. Does he wax poetic? Write you sonnets?" Alfred sighs dramatically, leaning against his brother, hand on his forehead.

"Or." He grinned. "Are the letters a bit more, well, graphic?" He wags his eyebrow at a clearly not amused and suddenly red Matthew.

"Alfred shut the hell up and leave your brother alone. Besides I highly doubt that's the case am I right Matthew?" Arthur chides, and when no answer comes and Matthew gets even redder Alfred starts laughing obnoxiously.

"Oh my god they are! That's fucking gross oh my god. In _letters_?" Alfred was overjoyed at his brother's embarrassment.

"Well it's not like these things don't happen. And people did it with their phones a long time ago so shut up!" Matthew grumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the two. They were both young and stupid. But he knew they were growing up and a part of him didn't feel too comfortable with it. It felt like two months ago Alfred needed help tying his shoes and Matthew wanted to sleep with him during thunderstorms. He also made a mental note to pay a visit to Gilbert when he was up north.

"Both of you get back to work for fucks sake what am I going to do with you?" Arthur complained, shooing them off and telling them he'll be at the house when they're done for the day.

Which wasn't really all that long after all.

"You are by far the biggest idiot I've ever met." Arthur chided as he looked over Alfred's arm worriedly. He'd somehow managed to burn himself while setting some of the old stable hay on fire, why Alfred was doing that in the first place was still a mystery. Arthur figured if he asked he would get an answer similar to "Well we don't use it anyway, and we had lighter fluid so...".

When Arthur got up from the table Matthew took his place and set a cold wet towel over the burn. "You'll be lucky if it doesn't blister." He commented.

Arthur knew Alex would have something for it. "Wonderful. Another trip."

* * *

><p>Francis' head had been fuzzy for quite a while and the only thing he registered when he was actually awake was movement, light, and heat. Intense heat. And then he would black out again. And then dirt.<p>

He woke for the seemingly hundredth time since he'd first been, what? Kidnapped? If so he'd been out most of the time and he seriously doubted whoever did this would just kidnap him so they could leave him out in the middle of nowhere. Sitting up Francis registered that it was night and fairly cold. His head felt like lead and he moved sluggishly.

Francis Bonnefoy realized he had absolutely no idea where he was.

"Well, this is certainly not what I had in mind." He muttered angrily in French.

Francis took a few moments to regain what little composure he had before standing up and wobbling to his feet. Grimacing, he tried to dust himself off. Looking around it didn't seem like there were any signs of life. No houses or stores or the ever present sound of people in general. But there were train tracks. They were laid in never ending stretches going two directions. Which directions, Francis did not know. But he looked at them as if they had been the cause of this mess, frowning sharply in aggravation. If anything good could come of them he would be able to walk his way to civilization. If not, well, he preferred not to think too hard on the subject. So with a sigh, Francis chose a direction. Which he almost completely regretted. The chill of the night seeped through his thin shirt. His suit jacket had mysteriously disappeared, and if the tracks ever did come to any sort of end they weren't showing it. If he were being honest he would say he most certainly would have given up by now. But the persistent chill and several noises in the night unsettled him too much to convince him to sit down.

And if he were willing to let his pride slip a bit, he would admit the sight of a small town silhouetted by the rising sun almost made him want to cry. He had made his weary way into town by the time the sun bathed everything in a slightly less chilly blanket of light. No one was out of their homes at this time of day but Francis was just happy to feel cement under his feet instead of dirt. Out of the corner of his eye a flash of blue caught his attention. Near the corner of a street a young girl in a blue dress was sweeping off the curb, a neon "Open" sign flashing dully in the fresh daylight. Francis could hear her humming faintly from where he stood.

"Miss?" He called in English.

The girl looked up and swung her head back and forth before spotting Francis. She looked at him wide eyed, but didn't run. Francis hobbled across the street and noted that his ankle was twinging with pain every other step. The girl only stood there as he approached.

"Hello." Francis offered with a slight smile that did nothing to hide his chattering teeth.

There was no reply.

"Do you speak English?" He asked, unsure. He wasn't exactly sure just how far from the Florida Territory he had been taken. For all he knew he might not even be on the landmass that used to be the United States of America.

The girl shook her head.

"But you understand?"

A nod and a smile.

Francis rubbed his arm to keep warm. "Do you know where I might find somewhere to stay?" His usual flair in speech was not present, mostly because he was slightly sore and frankly too tired to care.

The girl smiled at him and offered her hand, which Francis took. She lead him to the door of the building, pushing it open to let them both in. The inside was warmer, but not by much. The floors and walls were dirty and dingy, as were the metal shelves that were lined up in imperfect rows. Francis rudely wrinkled his nose in disdain. The girl hadn't seen, or if she had, hadn't felt the need to show it. They made their way to the very back of the room towards another door. The girl knocked a couple times and the sound of someone moving around on the other side was followed by the door opening. A tall man with dark skin and dreadlocks stood in front of Francis.

"Hello." was all Francis could manage before he passed out.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Whew! I was beginning to think I'd never post the next chapter! I try and go by the "finish one post one" rule. I was so anxious to get this one up but I had to write another page or so for chapter four before I could. But yeah! A little more Francis here. Originally I hadn't planned for him to meet the girl at Alex's shop but I've found that when following my "outline" I end up adding things from nowhere for pretty much no good reason. But it's better than I expected from the beginning so hey who's complaining?

Also sorry for the very weird info dump at the beginning. I wanted to be vague about "The Fall" for quite some time but then I figured the story had to move on from something so far removed from the actual timeline. The best way I could think of was to tie it in early to Arthur an the boys. Dream ex Machina anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

Francis was almost certain he'd been shot in the face. Just a little.

"Well shit didn't think you'd wake up."

The Frenchman turned to find the man with dreadlocks putting out a cigar in an ashtray he was holding. The smell was cloying and made him feel like he desperately needed to come up for air, but of course that sounded preposterous even in his head, never mind out loud.

"How long have I been sleeping?" He mumbled, lapsing into French halfway without even noticing.

The man exhaled as if he'd still been taking drags of the cigar and sat forward to put the tray on a nightstand next to the bed. "No more than a day I assure you. If that's the question I'm answering?"

The blond didn't reply, and the darker man didn't ask anything else. He just sat there for a minute and watched Francis sit up and rub his head. He really needed to fix this shot in the face situation.

"So what brings you below the Southern Border, Mr...?" Alex trailed off, his voice upticking at the end.

"Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy." The blond grumbled.

"Well hello then Francis. You can call me Alex."

* * *

><p>This was the last thing Arthur wanted to do on his vacation, if that's what you could call it anyway. The train back toward the border felt nearly twice as long as it had the first time. Of course the trip back wouldn't be that much different. He'd planned to leave well before nightfall. As usual the train arrived at noon, and Arthur squinted against the light before hurrying under the shade of the platform overhang. The inside of the station was small and much cooler than outside. A few people stood around waiting for their train to pull in, heading God knows where. An old Starbucks counter was a mere shadow of what it used to be, now housing only a man in a tan suit selling a sparse collection of items to what looked like a nurse. That is if the red cross stitched onto her worn shoulder bag wasn't a coincidence.<p>

At the other end of the station Arthur rented a horse from a different boy than before. The boy nodded politely when Arthur gave him money. As he rode away a feeling nagged at the back of his mind. The feeling had come upon him only once before, and it made him feel like this was the end of something. Like Arthur was near the edge of a cliff but he couldn't see it. And the cliff would inevitably stop, abruptly, and with a sickening emptiness he'd fall. Whether or not he'd find a way back was uncertain. Arthur didn't like uncertainties.

* * *

><p>"Fuck. Tricky ass business you got yourself into there Mr. Bonnefoy." Alex said, eyebrow raised.<p>

"I suppose. I am alive and that is what matters in the end." Francis huffed and sent a delicate line of smoke from his lips to vanish into the air. He'd never liked cigars but now was as good a time as any for one in celebration.

Alex got up from his chair and stretched. He walked over to a small fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out two bottles of water. The walk back was slow and deliberate, as if the man spent his entire life conserving energy for when he genuinely needed it. Francis took the bottle when it was offered and was surprised to find the seal on the cap snapped when he opened it.

"Surprised huh? Hard to find bottled water many places nowadays." Alex laughed and took a swig from his own bottle. "Found a small palette of twenty-four packs in the back storage. Still got half of 'em left."

Francis remained silent for a moment. Alex had said they were below the Southern Border, which meant he was still near the territories. He'd have to find a way to the New York Territory regardless. Though he doubted Toni and Belle would be of any use to him now. Their boss was the no-nonsense type and would more likely leave him abandoned than waste any more time and money looking for him. Especially since Francis had yet to pay him for his services. That part of their deals usually occurred at the end. The bigger question was how was he going to to get where he was going quickly?

The sound of another door closing caught his and Alex's attention. Alex got up without saying anything, leaving Francis in the room by himself. Francis threw the blanket covering him to the side and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He noted that his right ankle was wrapped in an ace bandage. After moving it slightly and finding it didn't hurt, he pushed off the bed and steadied himself upright.

"Burn cream?" Alex asked, lips quirking at the side in a smirk.

"Well it's Alfred so it's believable." Arthur sighed. While Alex dug around behind the counter Arthur kept conversation going. "Speaking of, Alfred told me something about looters in Florida? You heard anything about it?"

Alex rose and placed a round tin on the counter. "Ten coins. Yeah, actually. Some guy stumbled in here yesterday. Said he was on his way to the New York Territory when he was kidnapped. Whoever did it left him out in the desert. Walked all the way into town when he found us here."

The door to the back room opened and Francis stepped out. He looked up at the two of them without much interest.

"Speak of the devil!" Alex laughed. "I wrapped your ankle up is it feeling better?"

"Yes, very much so. Thank you." He replied and made his way closer to the counter.

Arthur watched him carefully. The man was obviously not from the Territories with that accent. France more than likely. His clothes were rumpled and looked slept in, but were obviously part of a suit. He looked like the type of man who didn't get dirty for a living, but had no problem dealing in dirty matters.

"You were kidnapped?" Arthur asked.

Francis looked at him coolly, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know why?" The short blond knew his sorry didn't sound sorry at all. If anything it sounded antagonistic. Not that he minded much. This man was obviously not from the same background he or Alex was, and would more than likely point his nose up at them in any other circumstance.

The french man sighed and raked his hands through his long hair. "No, I do not. I had nothing much of value on me. Now it seems I am on a mission to New York."

Alex crossed his arms and looked contemplative, which Arthur knew meant one or both of them was going to be subjected to some hair-brained scheme. The older man's eyes lit up and he turned quickly to the taller blond.

"Y'know, Arthur's a Bounty Hunter! He travels everywhere from Hell and back. Maybe he can escort you." It sounded more like a proposition than a question to Arthur. "That way you won't get your ass kidnapped again. And I doubt you'd live more than a week out there by yourself."

Francis seemed mildly offended, but glanced at Arthur expectantly, "Do you think that would be possible?"

Arthur didn't like the look he was given. Like this man thought he had a right to the safety in escort. People like him were exactly the kind Arthur was sent after nine times out of ten, and if given the chance would probably shoot him in the leg halfway through the journey.

"No way in hell. This is your problem, and I have plenty of my own. Nice to see you Alex." He grumbled and set the coins he owed on the counter before turning away.

Francis scowled. This Arthur was rude, and obviously didn't know what was at stake by turning him down. "I have money!" He commanded, stepping forward.

Arthur turned and glowered back at him. It almost made Francis drop his faćade of bravado. The smaller man turned around fully and almost seemed to growl at him. "Yeah, and so does my boss! You think I'm going to waste my time on some pathetic snob during one of the few weeks a year I get to not worry about being shot? I've got other shit to do."

Before Arthur turned to leave again, Francis panicked. He knew he wouldn't survive alone as much as his pride insisted he could. He had no idea how to get to New York and no means to do so.

"I don't think you understand. Name a price and you'll have it! I have more money than you can imagine and I assure you you will be paid for your services." He bargained.

Now that made Arthur stop. He desperately wanted to put the other man in his place. He wanted to refuse so badly it almost hurt. But if what he was saying is true, one little week could earn him enough money to buy his own home somewhere where he wouldn't be under anyone's thumb. He and his cousins could live out their lives in relative peace. He hated being wrangled into this mess...but it might be worth it. He didn't say anything right away.

"Fuck it. Fine. Follow me." Arthur barked as he pushed the store's door open, letting in a faint breeze. He still wasn't entirely sure this was an exceptionable idea.

Francis followed closely behind after saying his goodbye to Alex. They walked in silence and stopped at a small telephone booth. Francis didn't know that telephones still worked here. They had them back home but it was usually in the homes of the wealthy, and a place as abandoned as this town didn't seem to be wealthy enough to afford luxuries such as power. Arthur dropped some of his coins into a slot, then dialed a number.

Arthur knew around this time of day the boys would normally be at work. And the only person there he could call would be the old man. The phone rang five times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" A gruff voice questioned.

"Hello Mr. Bardsley, this is Arthur Kirkland. I was wondering if I could get Matthew on the phone?" Arthur shifted the phone from one ear to another while he waited for a reply. The old man was moody at best and it wouldn't be too surprising if he hung up on him right now.

When the man replied Arthur almost sighed gratefully.

"I think I can do that. Just wait while I get him."

The silence on the line lasted no more than a minute or so before the faint sounds of a door opening and closing echoed on one end.

"Arthur?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah it's me. I have to go to Michigan to pick up some more rounds and maybe a new gun." Arthur explained.

"Michigan? Why though? Did something happen?" Matthew sounded worried as always.

"No everything's fine. I just need to restock is all. I'll be back with the burn cream in a day or so." Arthur knew on the other side Matthew was fidgeting, wanting to ask a question he'd asked a million times before.

"Arthur I know I ask a lot," He started. "But, do you think I could go this once?"

The older man sighed. He knew Matthew hasn't seen Gilbert in forever and technically now of all times would be the best opportunity. But if Arthur wanted to get this repulsive Frenchman off his back he'd have to do everything as soon as possible.

Matthew panicked, afraid he'd upset his cousin. "I understand if you don't want to take the extra trip though! I just thought that now would be a good time because you're not on a mission and it would be safer! That's why I asked." The poor kid sounded completely defeated.

"Hey don't worry I'm sure you'll get to see him soon. If you want I can pass a message along." Arthur could at least offer him that.

"Thank you Arthur. Just tell him I miss him. And that I..." Matthew trailed off, sounding as red as he more than likely was. "That I love him?"

"I can do that." Arthur laughed. "Take care of your brother. I'll be back soon."

"Okay! Bye."

"Bye." He hung up.

Francis didn't ask any questions when Arthur turned around and headed off in another direction. There was quiet between the two again, which Francis was suspecting would become a constant.

Their walk ended at a horse. Arthur slipped his rucksack into a bigger bag that was tethered to the worn saddle before untying the large animal. Moving swiftly and with practiced grace, Arthur was swinging his leg over the other side of the giant. Francis stared at the horse with trepidation. He had grown up around horses most of his life but he'd never once had to handle one.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" Arthur peered at Francis from above, smug.

"Why, of course not my dear, just contemplating what an enjoyable person you are to be around. I am very lucky to have you as my guide." He sneered back.

He held out his hand expecting a supportive grip but got only a rough yank by the elbow to help him up into the saddle behind Arthur. Francis' heart beat viciously against his ribcage as he teetered above the ground. With his arms wound around Arthur's waist he prayed the smaller man couldn't feel it. He would not admit anything to this man, much less petty fear. Though, once they started moving it took all Francis' pride not to tighten his grip on his guide.

At the station they returned the horse to it's stall, and made their way through the emptiness of the station to the platform. The train pulled in shortly and it's bulky form halted for what seemed would be only a moment, as if it were a living being with it's own schedule to manage in spite of the tiny humans who drove it's movement. The seating inside was worn but on the edge of acceptable for Francis. It's cars cut into smaller boxes of glass and worn trim. There was no talking. Arthur stared out the window with a blank expression and Francis didn't attempt any conversation. Not even after the train started moving and the scenery flew past in a blur.

Francis wasn't fool enough to think Arthur didn't notice his staring after so many minutes. And it wasn't that Francis meant much of anything by it either. His guide was rigid in more ways than one and entirely made up of mystery. But there was something to him. Something so very conflicting. It might have been the softness of his features compared to the rough callouses on his hands. Arthur was fairly attractive, and it seemed such a waste for his time to be devoted to bounty hunting.

Night fell soon enough, and Arthur's voice almost startled Francis out of his skin.

"Your seat pulls out a little for a bed. If you're lucky there's a pillow in your overhead." He explained as he got up and dug around for his own pillow.

For once Francis didn't say anything back. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was, and followed Arthur's lead. The shuffling of other passengers filled the empty space between the two men as they laid down and prepared for the night. Arthur laid with his back to Francis and seemed to sleep almost instantly. But the Frenchman couldn't seem to get comfortable enough. After rolling around as much as his limited space allowed for some time, he laid awake in silence. He peered out the window and watched the tops of trees scrape the dark sky. The moon and stars shone immoveable in the sky, filtering dull light into the space around him.

For some reason he felt overwhelmed. It seemed like now that stillness had finally forced itself upon him everything that had been held above him suddenly crashed down. Francis didn't know why, but he teared up. Everything about this situation was wrong. He didn't belong in the dingy sleeper car of this train, next to a man that had been and would continue to be nothing but rude to him.

Homesickness hit him unexpectedly and he wanted nothing more than to hear his Mother's voice and to feel her fingers comb through his hair. He pressed the insides of his palms tightly against his eyelids and tried to will away the darkness creeping into him. He could only be grateful the sounds of the train rattling and other people speaking in softened tones did not leave him as alone as he might have felt without them. They were constants. Reminders he wasn't completely alone. Francis was just grateful Arthur was asleep and didn't hear him breathe in and out shakily. He couldn't discern when exactly, but sleep took him at some point in the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Woo! After what I'm sure was a month I finally have chapter 3 up! I was trying to stick to my usual writeing/posting schedule but chapter 5 gave me so much trouble. If you look closely in this chapter you can find a small nod to Cherie Preist's _Clockwork Century_ series. Her books are what really made me want to write this story again, sans the zombies of course. Though I'm not ashamed to admit the Shia Lebouf movie _Lawless_ came first on the inspiration train.

Also! If anyone wants to know when a new chapter might be coming out/is posted before they decide to check their email, I post on my tumblr (tokyodrools) immediately after I post a chapter. I also use the tag AIFATF when I tag most of my posts related to the story but not always. I appreciate everyone who's been following the story! I've gotten more than almost 200 hits on both AO3 and . I'd love to hear any comments or critiques, and look forward to chapter 4 just as much as all of you guys!


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